An Illicit Affair
by sofi'schoice
Summary: What if James never died? If he killed Voldemort and Harry grew up with his father? What if Hermione never went to Hogwarts? If far away in France, she held a secret crush for a certain Hazel eyed Headmaster? James/Hermione fic.
1. Chapter 1: Face to Face

N/A: This is my first attempt at my favorite HP pairing. It's just a dabble and I'm not sure whether or not to continue it so let me know what you think. I've got a lot of ideas towards it but I'd like to know your opinions regardless. Kudos to Wistful-Stargazer for correcting my dreadful french and unedited flaws. I combed through these drafts with more care this time, so without further ado......

An Explicit Affair

Chapter 1: Face-to-Face

She remembered the first time she laid eyes on James Potter.

She was no more than 11 or 12 years old. Not long after receiving the letter that changed her life, Hermione researched anything and everything concerning the wizarding world. It was only a matter of time before she came across his name. He was infamous. Searching through all the books in the school library, she quickly became enthralled by his story.

She sighed as she stared at his picture in her textbook. Pushing it away, she quickly gathered her things and departed the library. She was tired, exhausted really. It was still mid morning, yet she was restless; not knowing what to do or where to be, just out of place.

Walking through the palace halls, Hermione was surprised when her best friend, Annel, appeared running towards her animatedly. Gasping for breath, she used her beretas a makeshift fan to cool her face.

"La madame vous cherche," she said once her breathing steadied.

"Pourquoi?" Hermione asked curiously as to why she was being inquired for.

"Je ne sais pas..." With those words, Hermione sighed and made her way towards her Headmistress' office without any proper explanation. Why was she being sought?

* * *

"Oui, directrice?"

"Ahh 'Ermione," Madame Maxine exclaimed. Ecstatic to see Hermione, she quickly ushered her to the couch and began pouring tea her customary Earl Grey tea in two cups. Passing one to Hermione and taking a sip of her own before setting it down on the table across from them, she looked to her student.

"Vous parlez l'anglais, oui?"

"Yes, very fluently. My parents are both English, you see."

Madam Maxine looked positively delighted, which only seemed to fuel Hermione's curiosity.

"Wonderful! Are you aware of the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry?"

"Yes, directrice. I remember how often Fleur complained of her stay there. Chatted to anyone with an ear, really. What does that have to do with me?"

"You, my dear, are the brightest witch here. You've been chosen to represent this fine Academy in our newly formed exchange program!"

She was speechless. Hogwarts? She knew close to nothing about it, other than the obvious. She had been too young to attend during the Triwizard Tournament.

"I-I don't know what to say."

"Oh my darling, you are going to love it. I've spoken to Professor Potter, and he has ensured that you will be well taken care of. You will go through the entire Hogwarts experience; it'll be divine. The exchange is officially commencing this next coming year. You will be with the rest of the people your age in their 7th year."

She didn't really know what to make of it. From what those who had gone had mentioned of their stay, Hogwarts wasn't much more than satisfactory. But then again none of her fellow Beauxbatons students had left without the bitterness of losing, so it was to be expected. This was obviously a way of reclaiming the pride lost during the tournament, but then again, what choice did she have?

That was how she found herself on a train to Hogwarts, very much missing their comfortable planes. She set her belongings in an empty compartment and sat down. Staring at the window, she found that she actually much preferred this scenery to the cloudy skies of France. She'd been like that for a little over 5 minutes when the compartment door opened. Two boys stumbled in and stared at her for the longest time. The first had messy raven hair and beautiful green eyes. She soon recognized him as James Potter's son, Harry. The resemblance brought a slight blush to her cheeks. The second one was a mystery to her, however. He was tall; that was the first thing that struck her. Red hair, blue eyes, fit and muscular, he was built like a Quidditch player,

"Umm....You must be Hermione, the exchange student." Harry spoke up. He looked very uncomfortable. It didn't surprise her that he knew about her, his father being who he was. Harry turned to face his friend, who seemed to be extremely stiff and shocked.

"This is Hermione Granger. She's from Beauxbatons. Dad told me all about it. To promote inter-school unity or whatnot, we're participating in this exchange program. They get Padma and we get Hermione," he informed his companion before looking to Hermione.

"I'm Harry."

Hermione extended her hand to Harry, "Pleasure."

She then reached to shake red head's, who was quick to grab it, then sheepishly let go. "Ron." She smiled at him. He reciprocated, albeit awkwardly.

"Do you mind us crashing here? Everywhere else is full."

Hermione shook her head and sat back down.

While the boys settled themselves in, they questioned her. "So how is it that you only have a light accent? Your English is surprisingly good." Hermione launched into a long explanation on how her parents were English, though they had moved to France when she was 10 for their job. They talked the rest of their trip, and it didn't seem like much later when the train pulled to a stop, signaling their arrival.

"Umm...where do I go from here?" There were so many students scattered that Hermione made a point to cling to Harry. He pointed to a large man whose size, had she not known her Madam, would've shocked her.

"Hagrid will take care of you from here. You may be considered a 7th year, but you were promised a Hogwarts experience, which includes crossing the lake and starting with the 1st years and get sorted." So with the large man, she went. The ride across the lake was spectacular, even if she was the second tallest one there and felt horribly out of place. When they reached the castle, she felt the butterflies in her stomach at the thought of what was through the doors and was unable to pay as much attention as she would have liked to the Professor who had intoduced herself as McGonagall. Not much later, the doors opened.

That was the first time she saw James Potter face-to-face.


	2. Chapter 2: The Sorting

N/A: Long time no see! I acknowledge the absurd amount of time that has passed since my last update and apologize. I won't bore you with my excuses, but I do plan on doing a better job of updating more frequently. I realize that this is so completely AU that it doesn't correspond to pretty much any of the books, but I had this insane idea one day after seriously craving some J/H. I like to think my new arrangement of the storyline makes sense, but you'll have to be the judge of it. I'm a huge J/H shipper and once this idea came to mind, I knew I had to share it. I know things are a bit crazy at the moment, but just hang on and the full extent of just how out of canon I went will show itself. So without further ado...

An Explicit Affair

Chapter 2: The Sorting

His eyes found hers immediately. She stood out painfully in a sea of eleven year olds. She had changed on the train to the more inconspicuous neutral black and gray Hogwarts uniform. Her hair was the color of chocolate, though through the candlelight, there were noticeable dark blonde strands mixed in as well. It went down in a cascade of curls to just above her bottom. Her side bangs covered a portion of her eyes, but there was just enough seen to appreciate her wide doe eyes. She looked nervous.

'_Ohdeargod._'

If ever there had been a man as heartbreakingly beautiful as James Potter, she did not think it possible.

He stood at the front of the room, his frame all but commanding her full attention. She could do nothing but stare and mindlessly follow the herd of 11 year olds toward him, as if her body was meant for nothing other than to step closer to his.

James realized the school was staring at the oddity among the young ones and cleared his throat to silence the room and recall the attention to himself. Stepping up in front of the head table, he began the first of what he hoped would be many invitations of the small timid first years.

He donned simple black robes that complemented his alabaster pale skin. It was his eyes, however, that held Hermione completely enraptured; they glowed a burning hazel.

The students came to a stop before a stool to the right of James Potter. It was only then that Hermione forced herself to stop gawking at him so obviously and take in the surroundings.

It was lovelier than she ever could have imagined. She'd read about it all in the previous summer, anxious about the inpending year; every detail from the enchanted ceiling to the décor has been noted in Hogwarts, a History. But seeing it first hand, standing before it herself, was nothing short of magical.

Fleur _certainly_ hadn't done it justice.

It was no Beauxbatons, but where her dear Academy held an aristocratic, cool feel about it; Hogwarts was warm and homely, charmimg. Rather than the multiple elegant round tables that were set across her previous large dining room, Hogwarts had impossibly long ones that were occupied by hundreds of students.

It baffled her how completely familial it all seemed. They were all sitting closely together and seemed perfectly comfortable being so. Beauxbatons tables were typically filled by no more than five students and all within their immediate clique. And yet here were people of every variety, simply mixed together in a happy union.

A breath of fresh air, it definitely was.

Her head refocused to the head of the room when she heard James Potter begin to speak.

Hermione tried to listen, she did. But for the life of her, she could not disentangle herself from the sound of his musical, rich voice or the way his lovely lips moved so gracefully to even hope to discern what was being said. All she could do was hear his deep voice as he addressed the room.

And then his lips uttered the most beautiful thing Hermione had ever heard.

'My name,' she thought wistfully. She was too wrapped up in thoughts of her name falling from his mouth that she had, however, completely missed the context of which it was being used.

A cold surge of realization came over her as her last train of thought was finally processed.

'What am I _doing_? He's the headmaster, for god's sake! It's absurd for me to even entertain these thoughts. I'm going to have to see him every day; I can't be thinking these things. I won't be able to look him in the eyes with these schoolgirl fantasies filling my mind. And I'm representing my academy, I can't afford to look like another of his foolish fan girls; I couldn't bear it if he saw me as such.'

It's settled.

She will promptly discard any and all silly notions concerning James Potter.

Determined, Hermione Granger finally looked up at Hogwarts' Headmaster just as his speech was coming to an end.

'Ughhh, this is going to be so much harder than I thought.'

Her head snapped forward at the sound of her name once more.

"But first, I'm sure everyone has taken notice of Ms. Granger. Could you please step forward?" _Professor Potter_ smiled encouragingly at Hermione and motioned for her to stand before him.

The first years parted quickly, and Hermione made her way toward him, her face bright red. The few steps went by too slowly, all the eyes on her made her feel disturbingly self-conscious.

"Ms. Granger will be here for her remaining year at Hogwarts. She is the pride of Madam Maxine at the Beauxbatons Academy of Magic and has grown to be considered the brightest witch of her generation. We are lucky to have been given the opportunity to host her, and I'm sure all of you are going to treat her with the utmost respect. So without further ado, Ms. Granger, would you please take a seat here?"

He motioned to the small stool beside him, and if Hermione was red before, it was nothing compared to how she was now. She could hear the Headmaster lightly chuckle besides her and gave him a light glare. Did he have to bring so much attention to her? It wasn't as if she didn't stand out enough, having the entire school watching her. He had to make her out to be the biggest nerd who ever lived!

She felt him turn around to the head table and reach for something, and soon a dingy hat was placed atop her head.

She almost shrieked when she heard a voice in her head.

_Welcome to Hogwarts, Ms. Granger. Ahh, a brilliant mind! I haven't come across one such as yours in a long time. You would do very well in Ravenclaw. But you already knew this. You've been acknowledged greatly for your mind as it is. I also see a great deal of bravery in you, not afraid to stand for yourself. A very Gryffindor characteristic, you'll contribute a lot to their house. In the end, however, it is up to you. What shall you choose?_

The feeling of longing swelled her heart.

'All my life, I've been nothing more than someone intelligent. I want to prove to others, to myself, that there _is_ more to me than my mind.'

_Then there is no doubt._

"GRYFFINDOR!"

There was an overwhelming roar from the table to her right. As Hermione turned to look, she was caught in_ Professor Potter's_ gaze. His hazel eyes were sparkling with mirth and a large grin graced his face. He was clapping for her, and she wanted to melt at the thought of being sorted in the same house as the handsome Headmaster.

"Congratulations, Hermione. I'm sure you can distinguish which table is Gryffindor for yourself. I hope you find the house to be as much of a home as I did in my years," he told her in a soft tone. His left hand came up to the small of her back as his right motioned towards the boisterous table, and the contact made her shiver.

Upon further inspection of the table, she found Harry and Ron motioning for her to sit by them, and she just about skipped towards them after smiling graciously at the him.

He then gave the floor to Professor McGonagall, who proceeded to run down the seemingly endless list of first years that were in need of sorting. When the feast eventually started, she realized how absolutely_ starving_ she was, having been too nervous to attempt holding anything down the night before. She now understood why the girls from her academy complained about the food, as there wasn't nearly as much low-fat food offered. However, Hermione was never really all too vain to care about something as trivial as calories. She enjoyed running, and her fit body showed it. She would just have to make her routine longer, it wasn't a big deal. And the food was delicious.

As Harry began filling her in on the ins and outs Hogwarts, she found that she really liked his company. He was terribly handsome and sweet, genuinely concerned in how she was enjoying herself.

"You aren't taking Divination, are you?"

She scrunched up her nose in a way Harry thought was rather cute.

"Circe, No. I don't have a timetable because I haven't officially chosen my curiculum yet, but definitely not; it's all nonsense to me. I walked out of that class in third year."

Harry laughed at her clear distaste for it.

"I'm completely with you there. Our Divination professor, Trelawny, can't look at anything of mine that doesn't lead to my death. I gave my dad a huge lecture on how ridiculous her logic was, but he just laughed at me. I dropped it too. There are only so many time I can take having my death predicted."

Of course, Ron was quick to throw in a rebut.

"Hey, come on. Be fair, we wouldn't have done nearly as well in that class if we didn't predict your death, Harry!"

They all shared a laugh at that. Hermione quickly stopped when she felt a warm hand on her shoulder. She looked up to see Professor Potter standing between her and Harry, smiling at them.

"Ms. Granger, would you please come with me to my office? I belive we have some specifics to work through."


End file.
